“I’m generally honest. It’s a full-truth, but only half of it.” She took another sip of wine. “No bondage I can’t escape from on a first date.”
“That’s a smart rule.” He set his wine glass down and met her gaze. “I won’t go outside of consent with anyone, but it’d be exceedingly stupid to do so with a pack wolf. Our organizations have worked too hard to get along with each other for me to fuck that up. Still, it’s a smart rule, and one I approve of.”
He looked at the back door and back to her. “We can negotiate what tonight actually looks like, or we can go sit by the fire first and figure it out while we eat dessert.”
She looked out the window, down at her dress, and then back at him.
“I figured I’d be okay outside for the short walk inside. I’ll need a jacket, or maybe a blanket until the fire is warm.”
Right. The day had been in the mid-forties, but it was probably down into the high thirties, and dropping.
“Not a problem. I can provide both.”
Chapter 3
Tuesday wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and followed Knife back inside, the cold night air filling her lungs. Her heels clicked on the hardwood as they moved through the house and up the stairs.
Every step made her hyper-aware of her body under the sweater dress — nipples already tight, her clit throbbing from their negotiations and the way he’d looked at her. The way he’d fed her the very first s’more, his fingers grazing her lips. The way he’d grabbed her hand and licked her fingers when she’d fed them to him.
She kept the conversation light, a thin shield against the anticipation twisting low in her belly. Talking kept her from thinking too hard about exactly what she’d just agreed to. She was looking forward to feeling his ropes, his hands, his dick, but even more, whatever pain he wanted to dole out. She had no doubt it would be different. First scenes are always stressful, and the unknown in this case was dancing in her stomach like a live wire.
“What’s your real name?”
He glanced sideways, that half-smile tugging at his mouth again. “You first. What’s up with Tuesday?”
“My grandmother is June, and I have an Aunt May, and a cousin named April. My brother is August. My mom is January, though everyone calls her Jan. They ran out of months that can be names and started on days of the week.”
He grinned beside her. “My name is kind of the ultimate Appalachian backwoods name. I was named after both grandparents, so I’m Harlan Corbett Walton, with the last name giving the definition of the whole country-hick thing, right?”
“Harlan. I like it. Fits you, actually. I figure you probably did something with a knife you can’t share, and that’s how you got the club name?”
“Naw. We cook a whole pig for our major shindigs, and I was just helping out in the butcher shop at the time, before I was voted in, but Gonzo had seen what I can do, so he told me to break it down and get it ready to serve.” He shrugged. “I understand the performance of it, and I guess it was impressive enough for them to turn it into a riding name.”
That was a relief, knowing he hadn’t creatively murdered someone with a knife to be voted in.
They stepped into the bedroom, her gaze lifted to the cathedral ceiling, and her breath caught at the complicated pulley system attached to the gorgeous, exposed beam.
Ofcoursehe went for old-school pulleys rather than a winch.
He’d promised sensory dep and painful bondage she could easily get out of, and he was right about how notrespecting a safeword would screw up the MC’s deal with Kenny, her alpha.
But trust only went so far, which meant she hadn’t reversed her stipulation about bondage she could get out of.
She took her dress off before he told her to. She hated being given orders, and much preferred doing what was expected without having to be told. Her wolf rebelled at obeying, and that was a problem for someone who wants to submit sexually.
Though there was absolutely something about Knife that made her wolf willing to submit to him, so it was easier for the human woman to pull her dress off, step out of her shoes, and then take her bra and panties off.
Knife was gathering rope from a heavy wooden chest, so she looked around, and then stared at the massive bed. A pillory was made into the footboard, and graceful motorcycle handlebars curved up from the headboard. It should’ve looked hokey and corny, but it all fit together. The bedding in hunter greens, the navy sofa and chairs, and hardware set into the floor under the pulley system made her swallow hard.
The kink hardware was all oil-rubbed bronze, and she realized the hinges and locks on the pillory were as well, along with a floor lamp in the corner, and the fan that looked antique but she was betting had a new motor in it.
The only metal in the roomnotoil-rubbed bronze was the motorcycle handlebars, making them stand out even more.
“Where on earth did you find the bed?” she asked.
“The bed is one-of-a-kind because I made it.” He turned from the chest with several coils of black rope in his hands and froze. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. Stand under the pulley and we’ll get started.”
Heat bloomed across her face and chest, and she immediately walked to the open space without having to fight her wolf to do it.
